Wishful Thinking
by Angela Pirate Ryoko
Summary: A misunderstanding between Ash and Eiji brings an interesting fact to light.


Wishful Thinking

by Angela

09-15-05

Ash was in the kitchen, mindlessly watching a music video when Eiji burst in. The older boy didn't say a word, but his eyes were wild as he purposefully crossed the tile floor.

"Hey," Ash greeted him warily. He couldn't imagine what could've put such a fierce expression on Eiji's face. "What's--"

His words were cut short when his friend pulled on the hem of his sweater. Ash raised his arms instinctively, his thinking momentarily stunned by this sudden and puzzling turn of events. Eiji yanked it over his head, knocking his glasses onto the table. He immediately went to work on the buttons of Ash's Oxford shirt.

"Hey wait!" the blond protested, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson. _What's this, all of a sudden? _He grasped Eiji's hands, trying to still their clumsy progress.

Eiji looked him in the eye, his face only inches away. "Let me," he insisted in an uncharacteristically intense voice.

Ash felt the heat of his friend's breath, smelled the mint of his toothpaste. His mouth went dry. They shouldn't be doing this – it was too complicated. Things could get dangerous between the two of them. Didn't Eiji understand how much harder it would be to say goodbye if they let themselves feel this much?

Eiji flexed his fingers, trying to break free of Ash's grip. The calloused tip of his index finger brushed against Ash's throat.

His whole body came alive. _Aw, what the hell? _It wasn't like it wasn't going to happen eventually anyway. Complicated or not, maybe it was about time they stopped denying this.

"All right," he whispered hoarsely, letting go of Eiji's fingers. "Let's do this."

The other boy's dark eyes flashed as his hands continued their fumbling work on the buttons. Ash wanted to touch him, wanted to press his mouth against the skin at Eiji's throat, but he held back. This was Eiji's game, it was only fair to let his friend play it out the way he wanted. Instead, Ash closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, which he was finding difficult just then. Some part of his mind registered that a song by Air Supply was playing on M-TV. Appropriate.

Once it was unbuttoned, Eiji shoved the white cotton of his shirt over his shoulders. His hands skimmed Ash's biceps as the cloth slid down his arms. The cool air puckered Ash's skin; he gasped.

"Aha!" cried Eiji triumphantly. "You thought I would not notice!" His fingers flicked Ash's side. Hard.

"Yeow!" Ash yelled and jerked his hand across to cover the bandaged spot. "What the hell was that for?"

Ejij held up a white t-shirt – Ash hadn't noticed it in his hands earlier. The Asian boy poked a finger through a small gap the size of a bullet hole. "Why do you hide this from me?" Eiji continued angrily. "Do you think the sloppy wash you do can hide blood?"

The whole left side of the shirt was discolored a pale yellowish-brown. It had looked white in the golden light of the bathroom the night before, so Ash had decided not to throw it away. He would've reconsidered if he'd had any idea that Eiji went through the laundry with a fine-toothed comb before washing it.

He scowled. "What happens to me is none of your business!" Ash snatched the t-shirt out of his friend's hands and flung it into the trash can. "It was just a fucking graze anyway – it barely scratched me." Ash was mad and getting madder. Had Eiji tricked him into taking off his shirt just to yell at him?

"That 'scratch' bled all over," the older boy countered accusingly. "And last night, when I ask if you were okay you said fine. Why do you lie straight to my face?"

"'Cause I didn't want you worrying about me, okay? 'Cause you get that look on your face and I feel like I hurt you worse than anything Arthur's ever done to me." Ash turned away from Eiji's stunned face and yanked his shirt back over his arms.

Eiji touched his shoulder, but Ash pulled away. "Ash," the Japanese boy said soothingly, his voice suddenly drained of anger. "I only get mad because I am afraid. I am afraid every night that I won't see you again."

The young gang leader ignored the swell of emotion that was stirred by Eiji's confession. At that point he was too angry to care. "So you tricked me?" he pushed, outraged. "Rather than just asking me about the damned shirt you decided to come in here and _seduce _me into showing you my bullet wound?" Ash buttoned his shirt with shaking hands, not noticing his sloppy mismatch of buttons and holes. "I had no idea you'd stoop so low."

Eiji blinked. "'Seduce'?" he parroted, his face blank. "What is this word?"

Ash felt his face go hot. The empty curiosity on his friend's face was completely disarming; the fury of just moments before melted in the embarrassed irritation. He couldn't believe he actually had to explain. "It's when," he began tightly, pushing his cuffed sleeves up to his elbows. "It's when someone tries to get another person to do stuff."

Eiji's face lit up with understanding. Misunderstanding. Ash forced himself to clarify. "Sex stuff," he said, seemingly unable to lift his eyes from the table.

A heavy quiet fell across the room as Eiji pieced it all together. "Sex?" he asked, dumbfounded. His cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. "You thought I was wanting sex with you? This is why you are angry?" The barely-contained hilarity in his voice bubbled over into a giggle.

"Why the hell else would you march in here and start tearing my clothes off?" the blond demanded, outraged that his friend found this so amusing. "Shut up!" he growled as Eiji's chuckles escalated into heavy laughter.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he gasped, tears in his eyes. He grabbed Ash's hand and held on as though he needed a lifeline. "It's just that you misunderstand so _badly._"

Yanking away, Ash turned to leave the kitchen. He grabbed his sweater and waved his hand. "Laugh all you want," he said without turning back. "I'm going out."

Eiji's laughter fell off into a choked protest. "Ash," he cried, dismayed. "I'm sorry! Don't go." He lunged across the room and grabbed the back of the younger boy's shirt. "Please! I'm sorry too that I hit your injury."

Unable to steel himself against such a pleading apology, Ash sighed. "And you'll stop freaking out over every little cut?" he negotiated.

"Only if you promise not to hide them."

It seemed like a fair deal. Ash nodded. Exhaling as though he'd been holding his breath, Eiji let his forehead fall onto his friend's back, just between his shoulder blades. He gingerly wrapped his arms around Ash's waist, careful to avoid the sore spot near the bandages. For a while neither one moved, and Ash imagined he could hear his friend's heartbeat, though it was probably just the pulse of the music playing on the television.

"I should make lunch," Eiji said softly, pulling slowly away.

The withdraw of his warmth from Ash's back was a shock. "Yeah," he agreed slowly. "I've got stuff to talk over with Alex." He walked slowly toward the swinging door, as reluctant to leave as he had been eager just minutes before. He realized they didn't really spend much time together, despite the fact that they shared the apartment.

"Huh." Eiji made the noise almost subconsciously. Ash turned; Eiji looked as though he'd come to a strange realization.

The Asian boy cocked his head and looked at Ash curiously. "You said it was all right," he said wonderingly. "You said 'let's do this.'"

Mortification and panic bolted through Ash like a drug. "Eiji," he began nervously, not at all sure what to say but needing desperately to change the subject.

Eiji's eyes widened. "And you thought that I wanted--"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ash snapped. The kid barely knew enough English to carry on an adult conversation and suddenly he had total recall when it came to regrettable phrases? "I'm going out. Don't make lunch for me."

Before Eiji could protest, Ash darted out of the kitchen. He knew he was leaving his friend confused and alone, but it was better than having to explain what really could've happened between them. Ash had been wrong to give in earlier – it _was _too complicated, too dangerous. Besides, hadn't he gotten his answer about Eiji's feelings? He let himself believe that the laugh had told the whole story, deliberately not thinking about the hug. Or that soft look in his eyes when he realized what Ash had said yes to.

He noticed his badly-buttoned shirt in the mirror by the front door. His cheeks were flushed and his hair wild – it looked like he had just come from a wild time in the bedroom. He glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Was something going to happen that night? When he got home?

He gritted his teeth as he fixed his shirt. _Not likely._


End file.
